


Diary of a Teenage Rebel

by flibbertygigget



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: 1980s, Activism, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, HIV/AIDS, Homophobic Language, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon, bisexual jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: The first time Jason's arrested is when he's fourteen.Or: So it's 1983, and Jason's neck-deep in AIDS activism. Trina's scared, Marvin's sick, and Mendel tries to keep it together.





	Diary of a Teenage Rebel

The first time Jason’s arrested is when he’s fourteen. Officially, he’s arrested for disturbing the peace. What actually happened is that he was caught in broad daylight with five boxes of condoms and a booklet about “How to Have Sex in an Epidemic.”

He calls Mom from the station and is bailed on $20.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Mom asks. Jason just shrugs.

It isn’t as if he doesn’t want to talk about it. He does. He has since he was ten and more terrified of ending up a homo like his father than of anything else. Dad had been so pissed off when Jason had tentatively tried to talk about his fears. Whizzer, on the other hand, had said that it wasn’t genetic and, anyways, being gay wasn’t so bad. And then there was when he was eleven, and he called Whizzer at ten at night saying that he wished he was gay or a woman because he just didn’t get girls. Whizzer had laughed and said being gay wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Jason sometimes wonders if Whizzer knew, even then, that something was terribly wrong. If he has any regrets, it’s that he didn’t figure out everything about himself before Whizzer got really sick and died.

Jason isn’t gay. Half gay, really. Some of the guys he hangs out with, the older guys who print gay zines and drink way too much, call him a baby bisexual. He supposes that fits well enough. He wants to talk about it, and Mendel and Mom are alright, really, but they’re 100% straight. It’s different. Dad might still be hanging on to life, but he’s hooked up to a million tubes and can barely understand English most days. He’d like to believe that Whizzer would be alright with it, would be proud of him.

He  _ knows  _ that Whizzer would want him to keep everyone else strong and healthy and safe. That’s why Jason got arrested. He spent his paper route money on condoms and set out to put them in every damn gay bar in New York City.

“Jason, what’s going on with your grades?’ Mendel says. “You used to be so smart. Not that you aren’t smart, but you used to be smart, too. You used to be top of your class at your Jewish middle school. Do you need to talk with someone? I think you need to talk to someone.”

“I don’t need to see a psychiatrist,” Jason says.

“I could-“

“Isn’t there a rule against treating family members?” Mendel bumbles for a reply, giving Jason the opportunity to slip away.

It’s true that Jason hasn’t been getting good grades, but quite frankly he doesn’t give a shit. He would skip school every day, join the fight with Ricky and Bobbi and the rest full-time, if he didn’t have to worry about getting in even more trouble. He figures that a teenage queer AIDS activist doesn’t need to invite more trouble than he already has. 

That doesn’t mean that he’ll be quiet when AIDS comes up at school, though.

It’s mostly just mutterings. Kids talking about how the fags are all getting cancer, about how they saw someone who looked sick on the subway and got off three stops early to keep from catching it. Jason reasons where he can and punches where he can’t. Sometimes he does both. He’s got to be the only kid in New York whose Mom subtly encourages him to act up. She might be 100% straight, but she sort of gets it.

It’s different when it’s the teacher talking.

“If you study the Torah carefully,” Mrs. Finkel says, “you’ll see that this most recent epidemic was inevitable.” Jason groans. Mrs. Finkel is his most annoying teacher, since she’s both ultra-Orthodox and unbearably literal and dumb. “After all, ‘man should not lie beside man’. God has sent another plague to ravage those who have ignored his commandments.”

“Is that a polyblend?” Jason yells from the back. The entire class turns in their seats to look at him. He’s known as the weird AIDS kid already, but this is the first time he’s been the weird AIDS kid at a teacher.

“Jason Ginsberg,” Mrs. Finkel spits. She’s probably heard about him being the weird AIDS kid too. “Is there any reason for your inappropriate interruption?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “Your shirt. Did you know that it’s a polyblend? Because I’m pretty sure that the Torah says you can’t mix fibers either. It’s a good thing that God doesn’t work like that, because if he did I’m pretty sure we’d all be struck down right here.” There are a couple of nervous laughs throughout the room.

“Blasphemy! Blasphemy and dissent!” She heaves him up by his arm, her long nails digging into his skin. There aren’t any laughs now.

“Just pointing out your hypocrisy,” Jason says.

“You will come to a bad end, mark my words,” Mrs. Finkel says. “You break bread with evildoers, and you’ll catch the same plague, the same judgement from God.”

“Actually, AIDS can’t be transmitted by food. My Mom’s friend Dr. Charlotte taught me that. Besides,” he makes sure his voice is loud enough that his classmates can hear him even as he’s being dragged out of the room, “my Dad has AIDS, and I haven’t been struck down yet.”

That little piece of information turns out to be far more trouble than Jason expected. 

Mom gives him a tired but fond look when she comes to the principal’s office. “My husband can’t make it,” she tells Principal Blumenkrantz. “He’s with a client. I’ll be sure that he hears all about this.” She gives Jason a subtle wink.

“Of course, Mrs. Weisenbachfeld. I do appreciate you taking the time to come down here.” Principal Blumenkrantz runs a hand through his thinning hair. “The problem, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, is that your son-”

“Jason may be a bit outspoken, but he’s going through a difficult time right now,” Mom says, putting just the right amount of saccharin worry into her voice. 

“Yes, we heard that his father has AIDS,” Principal Blumenkrantz says dryly. Mom’s lips purse, and Jason can tell that she’s actually mad at him now.

“I don’t see how the precise disease from which my ex-husband is dying has any relevance to Jason’s behavior.” Principal Blumenkrantz runs his hand through his hair again.

“You see, this is a very serious situation,” he says. “It would be one thing if it was just a private manner, but he yelled it to his entire class.  _ While _ disrespecting a teacher, I might add. Children will talk, and soon enough I’ll have parents coming down on my head. They won’t want the kids around someone with AIDS.”

“I don’t have AIDS. I literally told everyone in an attempt to make that point,” Jason says.

“It’s the same difference. You’ve been exposed-”

“It’s not passed that way.”

“- and now those around you will fear for their own safety. They deserve to feel safe.”

“So do gay guys, but you don’t see Reagan trying to find a cure. He won’t even admit AIDS exists, not out loud.”

“Jason,” Mom says. She’s definitely pissed now; her lips have practically disappeared into her face and her voice has gone all high-pitched. She turns back to Principal Blumenkrantz. “What are you proposing?”

“Two weeks of suspension. If this doesn’t blow over by then, perhaps more.”

“You do realize that my husband and my ex pay quite a lot of money to this institution?”

“Well, I’m afraid we just don’t have a choice.” 

Mom nods, grabbing Jason by the arm. She doesn’t say anything until they’re in the car and on the road. Jason glares at his sneakers. He quietly resolves not to apologize for anything he said. He only spoke the truth, after all.

“I told Cordelia back when Whizzer was sick that I hadn’t felt so helpless in years,” Mom says at last. Jason looks up at her, surprised. “This is worse. This is so much worse.”

“What do you mean?” Jason says. “If you’re worried that I have AIDS, it doesn’t spread through the air or skin, so I can’t get it from Dad. And if I ever have sex with a guy I’ll use a condom.” Mom chokes out a laugh.

“That is comforting, but that’s not what I meant.” She pulls into a slightly sketchy-looking side street and parks the car before resting her head on the steering wheel.

“Mom?”

“I thought that you, at least, would be safe,” she says. Jason blinks at her.

“Mom, you know I’m-”

“This isn’t about you being bisexual or queer or whatever. I know you’re smart. You’re the one telling everyone else to be smart about love, after all.” She gives him a slight smile. “I just - I thought that you being smart would be enough to keep you safe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jason, you know that my father survived Dachau.” Jason nods. “He didn’t talk about his experience there, but he would sometimes talk about what coming to America meant to him. It meant safety. Yes, there are some people who don’t like Jews, but compared to before… He was able to build a life here. He was able to marry, to live a middle-class life, and as far as he was concerned that was going to be the legacy he left. A happy, financially comfortable family that would never have to worry about the danger and pain he’d had to endure.”

“I am happy, Mom.”

“I know, but you aren’t safe. You’ll never be safe. If it isn’t this damn disease that’s taken Whizzer and Marvin, it’ll be your need to-” She swallows, and Jason can see how hard she’s trying not to cry. “And I understand, God, I understand. I understand why you have to do it, and I’m so proud of you. But I still can’t help but wish, as a mother, that it didn’t have to be you that saved the world.”

“Mom, I’m not saving the world,” Jason says, feeling vaguely guilty. “I’m just - I’m trying to help. I’m trying to keep guys from dying. It’s the other guys who are trying to get the government to give a shit about us.”

“You’re doing more than so many people,” Mom says. “Including me, I know. I’m as guilty as anyone else.”

“You’re doing alright,” Jason says. “You can do more, too. You know, sometimes I wish you and Dad had gotten married five years earlier. I’d be able to do more if I was grown up.” Mom reaches over and grasps his shoulder, almost as if she’s trying to confirm that he’s still there.

“I want to tell you not to grow up too fast,” she says. “I want to tell you to sit back and let the adults handle this latest disaster. But, well, you’re already in the thick of it, aren’t you? You’ve already grown.”

“I was always gonna be involved,” Jason says. “I couldn’t - not after Whizzer, and definitely not after Dad.” He pauses. “Can I have some extra money while I’m suspended? For the bus? I’ve got some things I have to do.”

“Running wild and saving the world?”

“Something like that. I can hit more bars if I can hop around instead of choosing one spot and sticking to it all day. I’m not drinking or anything,” he says quickly, seeing the look on Mom’s face. “Pete says we can keep more guys from getting infected if we put condoms in the bathrooms of gay bars. I’ve been helping out.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Mom says. “I wish I’d known about this before, though. I don’t like the idea of you being on your own downtown. There’s so much crime.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d act like this,” Jason says. “Look, it’s not like I can do much else. I’m too young to organize protests and vigils. I’m no writer, so I can’t help with the papers. But I have to do something. I have to help.”

“I know,” Mom says. “Just… I’ll talk with Mendel. We’ll figure out a system or something. Maybe you could tell us which bars you’re planning to go to beforehand, or maybe you could call us at certain times. Just something so I know you’re not completely alone out there.”

“Alright,” Jason says. It’s a better reaction than he expected. He knows that none of his classmates would be allowed to go to a bunch of gay bars to try and mitigate an epidemic. “Hey, Mom, can we go to the hospital? I want to tell Dad about what happened.” Mom nods.

“Of course,” she says. 

The hospital is one of the better ones in New York for AIDS patients. Ricky says that they shouldn’t be called people with AIDS “victims,” since it’s possible to live a full and fulfilling life for a while even after you get AIDS. Jason can’t help but think the word “victim” in here, though. It’s a large-ish ward, with over a dozen beds separated only by thin white curtains. Any free time Jason doesn’t spend doing activism is spent in this ward, so he knows all the guys here, even if they’re asleep a lot of the time. Dad is by far the worst off, but then again, he’s the one who’s had it the longest.

“Hey, Derrick,” he says when he sees that the man in the second bed to the left is awake.

“Hey, buddy,” Derrick says, giving Jason a slightly painful-looking smile. “Here to bust me out?”

“Not today, sorry. Is my Dad awake?”

“Dunno. He was making some noises earlier.”

“Alright. I’ll check. Sorry I don’t have that zine you wanted. This was kind of last minute. Do you have anything else you want me to bring next time?”

“ _ Giovanni’s Room _ , if they’ll let a kid like you check it out from the library.” Jason grins.

“You know I have my ways,” he said. “This is my Mom, by the way.” Derrick looks over at Mom, giving her a polite nod. “I’ll go see Dad now. Bye.”

“See you soon, buddy,” Derrick says. Jason walks down the row of beds to the end, ignoring the awkward conversation Mom tries to strike up with Derrick. He slips behind the permanently closed curtains to see Dad.

Dad looks nothing like his Dad. He’s thin, so thin, his curly dark hair falling out in clumps. There are tubes everywhere - up his nose, in his hands, up his dick. Jason knocks on the bedside table as a courtesy, just one more attempt at normal in a world that’s gone wrong. Dad’s eyes spring open, though he can only look at Jason with one. The other eye has been taken over by a sickly white film.

“Hey, Dad,” Jason says. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me at noon on a Tuesday.” Dad smiles slightly, and his right hand twitches as though he’s trying to gesture somewhere. Jason gets it. He pours some water from the pitcher on the bedside table and helps Dad drink it.

“What happened?” Dad says when he’s finished, his voice raspy and weak.

“I got suspended.” Jason giggles. “For two weeks. And all because I called Mrs. Finkle out for wearing a polyblend and told her I can’t get AIDS just from being near you.”

“Your Mom… must be thrilled.”

“She took it pretty well, actually. Do you want to see her?” Dad shakes his head.

“Feel better than I have in weeks. Don’t wanna ruin that.”

“Do you want to sit up?” Dad nods, and Jason fiddles with the buttons on the side of the bed. “I’m gonna be able to see you more now that I’ve gotten suspended. You wanna hear about how I got arrested?” Dad nods, looking slightly eager, but before Jason can begin Mom shows up in the crack in the curtain.

“Jason,” she says, “I need to run a few errands. You can come with me, or…”

“I’ll stay here,” Jason says. “Could you get  _ Giovanni’s Room _ for Derrick while you’re out? I feel really bad about not having the first thing he wanted.” Mom hesitates for a moment, just a moment, before she smiles.

“Of course.” She turns to Dad. They don’t fight anymore, not since he got too sick to keep up, but Jason knows that Mom doesn’t really know how to treat him. That’s alright. There’s a world of difference between ex-husband and Dad. “Are you feeling…”

“Good,” Dad says. “I’ll be better once you leave.” Mom rolls her eyes.

“I’ll be back in an hour, Jason.”

Jason spends the next hour telling Dad about getting arrested, about condoms, about “How to Have Sex in an Epidemic.” He’s probably told Dad some of it before, but either he doesn’t mind or, more likely, he was too out of it to remember.

“Sometimes I have dreams,” Dad says. “Nightmares. Sometimes they happen when I’m awake.”

“It’ll be alright,” Jason says.

“I don’t mind dying,” Dad says. “I’ve gotten used to the idea. But I don’t think I want to go crazy.”

“You’re not going crazy,” Jason says, taking Dad’s hand. It feels dry and paper-thin, like it’s a husk covering emptiness instead of a living thing. “You’re not. It’s just a fever.” Dad nods and closes his eyes. “Just go to sleep. You seemed to feel really good today.”

“Yeah,” Dad says. “Yeah, I did. See you soon, kid.”

“See you soon, Dad.” Jason gets up and emerges from behind the curtain. Derrick’s gone back to sleep now, and the room suddenly feels more like a morgue than a ward. He and Dad make sure to never actually say “goodbye.” That word’s too final. It would tempt fate.

The next day, Jason takes the bus over to Ricky’s place in Greenwich Village. Ricky and his boyfriend live right over a copy shop that doesn’t mind printing queer stuff, so their apartment’s become a sort of unofficial hub for gay zines and AIDS pamphlets. Jason doesn’t think he’s good enough at writing to help make them, but he can run stacks of paper between the different gay places in New York. Today, though, is a Wednesday, which means that there probably won’t be any new things for him to take. He still wants to know what he can do to help.

“Hey, Ricky,” he says. Ricky’s boyfriend, Dan, must have left last. He never remembers to lock the door.

“Jason?”Ricky says, looking up from his typewriter with a shocked sort of grin. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“I got suspended,” Jason says. Ricky laughs.

“So Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes finally learned to live a little.” The door behind Jason opens to reveal Dan. He’s got a black eye, so he must have mouthed off to a cop again. “Hey, Dan! Did you hear? Jason got suspended!”

“Nice,” Dan says. He goes over to the fridge and tosses Ricky a beer. “Jason? A little something to celebrate your delinquency?”

“No, my Mom would kill me if she thought I was drinking with you guys,” Jason says. “I did get arrested last Saturday, though.” Both Ricky and Dan’s faces suddenly turn serious.

“Arrested? What for?” Ricky asks. “Jason, you know you have your whole life ahead of you-” 

“It wasn’t anything bad! It was just stupid.” Ricky and Dan are still looking at him like that, like they think he’s going to join a gang at any moment. “Some cop saw me with the condoms and that booklet. He arrested me for disturbing the peace.”

“Shit,” Dan says. “I didn’t think they’d hassle you.”

“They didn’t hassle me. They just, you know, arrested me.”

“You’re just a kid.” Dan touches the corner of his black eye, and Jason know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Just shut up, okay? They didn’t beat me up, they barely even yelled at me, and even if they had done those things it wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Yeah, but still-”

“And I’m not a kid.” Ricky snorts. “I’m  _ not _ . I’ve been trying to help with this just as long as any of you, so maybe you could stop treating me like someone who doesn’t understand what’s at stake. I know  _ exactly _ what’s at stake.”

“You’re fourteen.”

“So?”

“What Dan means,” Ricky says soothingly, “is that we think you should step back a bit. Maybe focus on school. Didn’t you say that your stepdad wasn’t too happy with your grades?”

“Yeah, well, I got suspended. Weren’t you just congratulating me on that?”

“That was before we knew you were getting arrested because we couldn’t get off our fat asses,” Dan snaps. “Fucking Christ, kid, even you have to see there’s a difference between getting caught smoking in the bathroom and getting charged with, what?”

“Disturbing the peace,” Jason mutters. “I wasn’t even being loud about it. He just caught me with the condoms.”

“Disturbing the goddamn peace. That’s gonna be on your record, Jason.”

“So? Who cares?” 

“Your parents? Your future employers? Jason, your life-”

“I don’t care. There are lives at stake here, and I’m not gonna shut up and play the good little boy when I know that people are getting sick and dying.”

“We’re not asking you to-” Ricky starts, but Jason’s had enough.

“No, you are. You really, really are. You’re asking me step aside and act like nothing’s happening, like - like Whizzer’s still alive and Dad isn’t dying. Well, you’re full of shit, and I’m not stopping.” Dan and Ricky look at each other. Dan looks pissed, but Ricky just gives him a shrug.

“It’s the kid’s life,” he says. Dan huffs out a breath.

“Fine,” he says. “ _ Fine _ .” And that’s that. Jason’s still in.

He’s glad he’s still in. Partly because he believes in the cause, yeah, but also because he still gets nightmares most nights. Dreams, really. They don’t deserve to be called nightmares. When he’s in them, he feels happy and complete. But when he wakes up, he realizes that they were just fantasies. That’s the worst thing, really. He always has to wake up.

The apartment always looks like it had during those short few months where Jason thought that they’d be able to be happy, before Whizzer died and Dad got so sick that he decided to let the apartment go. Their things are out instead of packed away in boxes, looking like they’re living. Mom and Dad and Mendel aren’t there, probably gone off to argue about the Bar Mitzvah again, but Jason can see the bald spot on the top of Whizzer’s head from where he’s lying down on the couch.

“Whizzer?” Jason says. Whizzer closes his magazine quickly. Jason knows, from going through Whizzer’s things, that he read all the gay zines. Maybe that was why he’d always seemed slightly embarrassed to be caught reading; he and Dad had seemed to think Jason was too young to get that. Queer shit. Jason sometimes manages to not resent it.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Just dream-Whizzer’s voice makes Jason start to tear up a little. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I know what you’re reading,” Jason blurts out. Whizzer looks confused. “I know what you’re reading. I read it too, after - after everything. They didn’t realize what was going on yet, did they?” Whizzer sighs and swings his legs around, patting the place beside him on the couch. Jason sits, but he doesn’t touch Whizzer, doesn’t cuddle into him like he wants so desperately to do. Every time he does that, the dream is broken. “Whizzer?”

“No,” Whizzer says, sounding sad. “No, they didn’t. Even if they had, it wouldn’t have made a difference. It wouldn’t have saved me.”

“Dad blamed himself, you know,” Jason says. “Before he got too sick to blame himself, I mean. He said that you wouldn’t have gotten infected if he hadn’t kicked you out. Sometimes - Sometimes I blame myself for Dad getting infected. I was the one who invited you to my baseball game.”

“Oh, honey-” Whizzer says, reaching out. Jason flinches.

“Don’t touch me! You’ll disappear!” Whizzer’s hand drops.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Please don’t - There’s no one to blame for me or your dad. Not you, not Marvin. Not even me.”

“I never blame you.” Whizzer’s grin looks almost painful. 

“I’m glad,” he says. “No one really knew, back then. It wasn’t like it is for you now.” He gestures to the magazine on his lap. “There wasn’t a word in there about what was happening to me, was there?”

“No,” Jason says. “Whizzer, I wish - I wish you weren’t dead.” It isn’t what Jason wants to say, not even half of it. It isn’t enough.

“I know, Jason. Life’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“So’s Ronald Reagan.” Whizzer laughs, a full, healthy, beautiful laugh. “I wish you could help me now. You’d know how to fix this.”

“Oh, honey,” Whizzer says, “i’m just a man. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything more than what you are right now.”

“Still, I’d feel better if you were with me.” Whizzer wraps his arm around Jason, and this time Jason doesn’t protest. He tucks his head into the place between Whizzer’s chin and collarbone, cheek pressing against soft linen shirt and soft skin.

“I’m with you, Jason,” Whizzer says as he fades away. “I’m always with you.”

Jason opens his eyes. Dark ceiling, dark windows. He can feel how wet his cheeks are, and he scrubs at them furiously. He doesn’t want to cry about the dream, but he can’t help the sobs that wrench themselves from his throat.

“Jason?” Jason holds his breath as someone knocks on his door. It’s Mendel, it has to be. There’s no other father it could be now. “Jason, are you alright in there?”

“I’m fine,” Jason croaks. The door opens, light flooding in from the hallway, and Mendel pokes his head in. When he sees Jason his faces morphs into a look of awkward pity.

“You don’t look fine,” Mendel says. “Hold on, just give me a sec.” Mendel leaves for a few moments, only to reappear carrying two bottles of beer. He pops off the caps and offers one to Jason.

“Mom’s gonna go crazy,” Jason says.

“What Trina doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Mendel says with a wink. “Besides, I figure that if you’re going to take on the responsibilities of being a grown-up, you might as well get to enjoy the perks.” Jason takes a sip of the beer. It’s cold and just bitter enough to make him feel alive. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t need a psychiatrist.” Mendel laughs.

“I think you do, actually,” he says. “But I’m not here as a psychiatrist.” Jason doesn’t answer. “You know, I worry a lot. Not about you, but about me. I know that I’m not the one you would have chosen to be your last dad standing. I know I’m not enough, but I’m trying.”

“You know what sucks?” Jason says. “I’ve looked through all of Dad’s stuff, but he doesn’t have a single photo of Whizzer from before he got sick. If it wasn’t for my dreams, I don’t think I’d even remember what he looked like when he was healthy. It’s like we all assumed that Whizzer would be there forever, and then when he got sick we all raced to make up for the lost pictures. But it didn’t make up for it. It just made it so that Whizzer’s always going to be sick.”

“That does suck,” Mendel says. He doesn’t tell Jason to feel alright, that things are going to  _ be _ alright. They both know that psychiatrists are all liars.

“And sometimes I’ll see a picture of Dad from before  _ he _ got sick, or of you, or of Mom, and I’ll just feel so  _ angry _ , because I know that I’ll always remember you guys as real people but Whizzer’s just - just a shell. Just an AIDS victim.” Jason takes a deep breath and a deeper gulp of the beer. “And I know that’s unfair, but I can’t help it. Part of me doesn’t  _ want _ to help it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mendel says. His hand is on Jason’s shoulder, just sitting there. The contact isn’t enough.

“I want to fix things. I want to help Charlotte find a cure for AIDS and I want to put pamphlets and condoms in every gay bar in the universe and I want to punch Ronald Reagan right in his stupid face. But. But I can’t stop Dad from dying. I can’t bring Whizzer back to life. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” Mendel says soothingly. He begins rubbing Jason’s back, and finally, finally Jason can let go. Huge, heaving sobs, not wrenched from him but spat out, spat like he wants to spit on the faces of every goddamn politician who looks away and refuses to give people like Dad and Whizzer and Ricky and Bobbi a chance at life. “I know it’s unfair. You can do something, though - No, you  _ are _ doing something.”

“Not enough,” Jason says. “Not enough to keep them from dying.”

“Jason, I don’t know what you want me to say.” Jason shakes his head.

“Don’t say anything,” he says. “Just - Just tell me what Whizzer would’ve said.” Mendel doesn’t say anything. “I’ll tell you what he would’ve said. He would’ve said that they’re not dead yet, that they’re sick but kicking. He would’ve said that we still have time, and that we should use it wisely. That we should use it to play baseball, to play chess, to screw, to fall in love, to march and hold candlelight vigils and quilt and fight. He would’ve said that we shouldn’t be afraid and that we shouldn’t be guilty.” Jason hiccups, his sobs finally having been sobbed out. “Mom said that she’s afraid. I think - I think I’m afraid too.”

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Mendel says. Jason gives a shaky laugh.

“Whizzer would’ve said that too,” he says. Jason finishes the rest of his beer in two long gulps. When he opens his eyes again, Mendel’s looking at him weirdly. “What?”

“How do you sound so much like him?” Mendel says. Jason shrugs.

“Every time I close my eyes I see him,” he says. “Every time I go into a gay bar, I can see him sitting in the corner. And it’s not just Whizzer. I can see Dad groaning in the baseball stands when I strike out. I can see Nico admiring the dresses in store windows on Fifth Avenue. Derrick reads in every library and Toby smokes on every fire escape. No matter where I go, I can’t escape them.” Jason looks down at his hands, which have balled themselves into shaking fists. “I’m not angry that I seem to be haunted by ghosts. I don’t know what I’d do without them. But I sure don’t want there to be any more.”

“They’re proud of you,” Mendel says. He grasps Jason’s shoulder. It isn’t the gentle comfort that his stepfather usually provides, the kind that Jason sometimes welcomes and sometimes resents. This is something more solid. Comrades going into battle. “They’re proud of what you’re doing for them.”

“I haven’t done anything much. Not yet,” Jason says, but it isn’t the hopeless sort of ‘not yet’ that he’s used to giving. He still has time, after all.

Maybe next time he sees Whizzer, he’ll tell him about being queer. Maybe next time he’ll be able to touch him without breaking.


End file.
